The Concubine's Sister
by Monsoon Raindrops
Summary: AU/OOC. Elizabeth marries Darcy, at Jane's request and as a point to prove to her promiscuous sister, that it's possible to remain in a monogamous relationship. Darcy is unaffected, but then he hadn't counted on Elizabeth's seductive powers...Rated M for LEMONS.
1. The Whispers Begin

Dear Readers,

Before we start, I need to make a few points clear. I like my HISTORY. Especially regarding the English Monarchy. Will I get everything right, all of the time? No, I won't. But the Pride and Prejudice story I'm about to tell, is loosely set in the 15th century. It is debauched, wicked and not for the wholesome.

My figurehead, is a real life historical figure called, "Jane Shore."

Now, Jane was quite the concubine in those days, bedding various important men and even the King, at one stage.

I wanted to base the story, around that of a fictitious sister, giving her Jane's _real _name, "Elizabeth." Partly to explore the ramifications of having such a promiscuous sister, and partly to write some smut.

Naturally, the one world I thought I could fit these two characters in was "Pride &amp; Prejudice" a novel I read as a child, so not altogether new material for me.

But this _is _my first P&amp;P fanfic.

So be kind :)

O

**Chapter One: The Whispers Begin.**

O

Elizabeth Bennet, boyish in nature, had been horrified when her sister Jane, the new flavour at court, had sent word there was a position open for a new Lady-in-waiting. She immediately knew the life that awaited her. Having born the King seven children, reports were Elizabeth Woodville didn't take kindly to the mistresses the King took in-between their trysts.

Jane was rapidly becoming his favourite, with his own words describing her as, "the merriest, the wiliest and the holiest of his harlots." Jane had no shame. She went from bed to bed, uncaring of the rumours that followed her - the stigma and damnation.

She was slowly but surely grinding their family name to the ground.

Back home, Elizabeth hadn't escaped from the unwanted attention. How many noblemen had cornered her at balls, secluded corners of their manors and so on, in order to preposition her? Surely, one sister spreading her thighs, meant open season on the rest of them?

Since she was the second eldest, she could handle it.

But Mary, Kitty and Lydia?

What of them?

Her first instinct was to refuse Jane's invitation to court. But her mother had been overcome with tears. She'd begged and pleaded into the night, for Elizabeth to at least _consider, _going to London. Lady Bennet had been deeply affected by the rumours of Jane whoring herself, and wanted Elizabeth, the most sensible and pragmatic of the lot, to cast an eye over her.

"Elizabeth!" She wailed. "Must you force me on my knees for you to change your mind? Poor Jane! She needs her family to support her, not cast her aside."

"No-one is casting Jane aside," Lord Bennet said insufferably, looking up from his desk, where he'd been writing with a quill by candlelight. "Elizabeth, put a stop to this nonsense. Go down to London and prove to us, Jane is fine."

"And if she is not?"

Her words cut through the silence, deadly and barbed.

Lord Bennet looked pale, but managed to clear his throat. "Then lie," he said hoarsely, as Lady Bennet began a fresh ratchet of sobs, that flooded from her busom to the skirts fanned about her, making her look small and weak.

Elizabeth, dry-eyed but determined, said, "Father..."

"The carriages will be ready at twilight. Please set out then."

O

As the carriage rattled into London, the cobbles made the path uneven and disjointed. Many a time, she had to brace herself, by placing a hand on either seat beside her. As she saw Eltham Palace for the first time, Elizabeth felt her jaw loosen. A gloved hand rose, and gentled closed her mouth. It was a correction Elizabeth did to herself, whenever she forgot her position, and gaped.

No-one was there to greet her, save for a few servants and a young woman, dressed in a kirtle, pushing her breasts up and out in her long red gown and chemise. The sleeves were ornamented, and tightly fitted to her waist, before the skirt flared down and skimmed her feet.

Elizabeth didn't need her to turn around, to know there was a row of buttons on the back, which would be partly covered by Jane's hair in a _crespine, _a type of hairnet that swept all the hair from her face.

Everything that Jane wore signified someone of high standing, but the easy access to her womanly...attributes, were pertinent and clear. Jane was a concubine, nothing more. She'd already married once, the man fourteen years her senior, but it had been annulled shortly after.

This meant, she couldn't ever hope to marry someone like a Baron or a Duke!

Elizabeth descended from the carriage.

"Jane."

"You have come, Elizabeth."

"Only at father's behest."

"But still...you are here." Jane came forward, and took hold of Elizabeth's hands. Already, the servants were eyeing her with displeasure. It was like with one touch, Elizabeth had been branded too. Whatever she said, whatever morals she held, would all be forgotten here, as she would be none other than the, "Harlot's sister."

Dear Lord.

What had she done?

The Queen would surely make Elizabeth guilty as Jane, merely by association. She couldn't escape Jane's reputation, only embroil herself further in it. Jane dismissed the servants, and asked Elizabeth for a walk around the grounds. They walked a shoulder length apart, leaving the carriage and horsemen behind, to reach some steps.

"Remember when we used to jump stairs like these, as children?" Jane asked, seeking familiarity.

"It has been a long time."

"But Elizabeth!" Jane suddenly perked, her demeanour lifting. "You have not asked me the important news. I have been rather sly bringing you here, but I can't keep it from you any longer! I have found you a match, Elizabeth. He is ten and three older than you, but a soldier of war and a fine specimen. He seeks a wife to take back to Pemberly, where he has a large estate."

They reached the end of the stairs, but Elizabeth wanted to run up it.

"Jane..."

_Jane, you fool!_

_How can thee?_

_What if he is horrid, lame or full of stench?_

_How can I tolerate him then?_

_What if..._

Elizabeth's thoughts grew short. As they walked across the lawn, towards the opening of a grand maze, with tall hedges and obscure turns, and a man stood near the entrance, with his back turned to them. The first thing that struck Elizabeth was the height. He was as tall as King Edward IV, and many put him as the tallest monarch to have ever graced England.

He wore a gambeson, steel plates known as a brigandine and mail armour, but was free from a horse or lance. He'd pushed the fluid chain-linked armour from his head, to reveal fair hair, that clung attractively around his head.

As she viewed him from a distance, a bolt of dread hit her square between the eyes. The way he held himself stiffly, like he was expecting someone, and Jane's unhurried gait, suggested an interlude between the pair.

But then...what if he was really there for _her?_

"That," Jane breathed, suddenly at her elbow. "Is the Duke of Pemberly. He heard you were coming today, and ordered an introduction, sure of your beauty, because we are sisters. Since he will ask for your hand, there will be no need for me to chaperone you any further." She broke off into a characteristic giggle. "He is then free to ravish you! Have you ever been ravished, Elizabeth?"

Jane kissed both her cheeks, and with a twinkle in her eye, dared to offer a wave after she picked up her skirts and ran. Leaving Elizabeth with half a mind to chase her and shove mild dew down her throat, and also with a sense of responsibility to address this Lord Darcy and let him down lightly and such.

She looked down her front, to check everything was in their rightful place, before lifting her head and walking with solidarity, to clear her throat delicately behind this solider.

Lord Darcy turned.

His eyes, cold and grey, sliced up and down her body before a smirk tugged on his lips, looking down his aristocrat nose at her.

"Not as pretty as Jane, but you'll do. Take my arm?"

The offer was abrupt, that it startled Elizabeth enough to take it. Sensing the command and superiority in his tone, she unofficially yielded. Ten steps later however, she was cursing herself for entering the maze with this strange man. Taking his arm, was close to creating scandal.

Entering the maze, would be akin to him bodily hoisting her up against a hedge, lifting up her skirts, and thrusting himself inside her. Thankfully, nothing of the sort happened, and they continued on in silence.

But not for long.

"Miss Bennet, I hope you will accept my proposal of marriage. My estate desperately requires a heir, and as you can see, I am practically a old man." He said, no hint of irony in his words. Elizabeth, again taken aback, did a side glance, looking at his features that may as well have been cut from marble. So strong, and slanted was the bridge of his nose, but his handsomeness increased with a square jaw and not a weak one.

"Your looks don't bely your age," Elizabeth offered, which caused Darcy to smile imperceptibly at her.

"I am thirty and eight. An experienced man. But unfortunately, a man who is sterile. I cannot sire children."

Elizabeth didn't dare say a word, her mind racing ahead of her.

Sterile? What a disaster.

But it didn't stop Darcy from revealing an alternative plan, which would cause a priest to blush. He reached over, and laid a cold hand on top of hers, where she'd still left it at the crook of his arm. Well, left was the operative word. He'd rather pinned it to his side, and she couldn't tug it away.

"I want to marry you legally, as you have not been married before like dear old Jane, and because there have been rumours the entire family shares the same promiscuous ideals as her. I would like you to uphold those ideals whilst I'm not in the household. So that although we may never have any romantic entanglements with each other, any others you might have will produce me a son."

Duke or not, Lord Darcy deserved a slap.

And she reared back a palm to give the biggest one.

Darcy accepted the slap, but the previous unemotional stare, had been replaced with a slight spark of irritation. What was this wench's problem? He was offering her free reigns of his purse. A good household, with a solid income. And as many lovers as she could take.

But yet, she was affronted?

"Lord Darcy," she threatened. "This is a personal insult. I will not take this lightly. If we were to become man and wife, it will be my prerogative to only sleep with my husband. If he cannot sire children, then I shall remain childless. It is rather unfortunate how you phrased your wording, Lord Darcy, because I had been planning to reject you today. But now I see it nothing more than a ill-made challenge."

Darcy looked confused. "What does that mean?"

"It means..." for a smaller woman, she definitely could look intimidating. The way she lowered her voice, and stepped up close, it was like she was issuing a threat. "That when you sleep, Lord Darcy, I want you to sleep with one eye open. You might never know when your poor, old wife might sneak in to perform fellatio."

The softest part of him began to harden.

For a second, he imagined a hot, suctioning pressure enclosed around his starved cock, and it felt so frighteningly good, he closed that image down at once. What Elizabeth didn't know, but Darcy had done since he was a young child, was that he always slept bottomless, preferring to feel the natural air around his private parts.

Darcy cleared his throat.

"If you dare do such a thing," Darcy said. "Then I will respond accordingly. With discipline!"

"I look forward to our wedding day." Elizabeth looked ominous.


	2. An Encounter in the Night

A/N: I wrote this super quick because of the super response (please keep it coming.)

If there's any mistakes, I apologise in advance. Point them out to me, and I'll correct later!

O

**Chapter Two: An Encounter in the Night**

O

Darcy did not see Elizabeth alone again until two months later. In that time, she'd gained another year in spinsterhood, but wore an engagement ring to silence the naysayers. In the meantime, he'd been busy - first riding out to Meryton to ask Lord Bennet for his daughter's hand in marriage, to arrange dowry assets and so on and then doing the arduous task of informing his aunt, his dear friend Bingley, and his awfully catty sister, Caroline.

No-one had wished him well, with the exception of Lord Bennet and his wife.

Bingley had reacted with amusement, treating Darcy's proposal like a whimsical jest. He knew Darcy was desperate for a heir, and having grown tired of all the respectable ladies in London, had heard of him seeking out a reasonably bred woman, who wasn't as respectable as them.

Elizabeth Bennet was just the answer to his prayers.

And maddeningly...the woman had agreed! With the first ask!

Either she was happy to whore herself as Darcy seemed to think, or the woman was in some poor, misguided fantasy that she could harness Darcy's soul, and be the only one to tame him. Apparently, she'd said the latter, but with Jane as her sister, it had been seen through by Darcy as nothing more than a weak attempt to keep her modesty.

Anyway which way - it promised to be a rocky marriage.

Elizabeth, now content with catching glimpses of her future husband, as he called in occasionally for dinner at the Bennet household but left before any significant pleasantries were passed, was quizzed fervently by her sisters.

They'd cornered her in her room one day, refusing to let her leave until she answered their questions.

"Why is this Duke so special?" Kitty asked, bouncing on the bed. "Is it because of his peerage? But Lizzy...your head's never been turned by titles before! Did he perform some black magic on you?"

"No!" Elizabeth said, tugging a brush through her ill-tempered hair.

"Then what?" Lydia whined. "You pretend to be so calm and collected, but secretly inside, you're just like any wanton woman, trying to tame her beating chest!"

"Lydia!"

"Yes?" She innocently asked back.

"This topic of conversation is inappropriate for your age."

"But am I not a woman?" She burst dramatically, like she was at a theatre, with a riveted audience in the palm of her hand. "But do I not have feelings and desires, encased in this young but burgeoning body, like you do too?"

Kitty squealed in laughter. "Lydia, I'm older than you but I'm straight as a plank!"

They both stuck tongues out at each other.

"I admit," Elizabeth put her brush down, and studiously focused on her lap. "This marriage is sudden and blinding - but the man I'm marrying is insufferable! He had goaded me, and now, I am powerless to resist. I'm drawn to him. Want him to take back his words. And every dinner that he ducks out of, as a ruse to keep avoiding me, makes me seek him out even more."

"It's a pity Jane won't be here," Mary said.

Elizabeth barely reacted to her sister's name. After being summoned to Court, and being ambushed by Darcy's proposal, she'd only remained under the Queen's service for one week before returning home. That week had been hellish enough. At every hour, of every day, she was summoned to clothe the Queen, to bathe the Queen, to do menial chores...it was enough to know she was being punished for Jane's perceived crimes.

Maybe Jane had orchestrated this match, in order to save Elizabeth from Court-life forever more. After marrying, it was common for noblewomen to retire comfortably to their husband's estates, and be a lady of leisure.

"Jane has made her choice," Elizabeth stood up. "Now, she is by the King's side, he won't let her come and go as she pleases."

"How do you think the wedding night will be?" Lydia asked, wiggling her eyebrows. "It's not long to go now, Elizabeth! Only eight days..."

She closed her eyes.

And true to form, those eight days passed on swiftly by.

O

Darcy had wanted a small marriage, and since his aunt no longer wanted anything to do with him, he got his request. In attendance, were the entire Bennet family besides Jane, Bingley, and his sister Georgiana. Caroline had refused to attend the service.

As the church doors opened behind them, Darcy was feeling nervous, despite himself, just having been knighted by the priest, kneeling to take sword, and pledge alliance to the King, Bishop and God, the protector! However, as his eyes alighted on Elizabeth, dressed in a simple white crinoline, hoops and long gloves, her hair loose, and adorned with yellow daises, he felt more at ease with himself and put his hands behind his back. Playing the dutiful groom as the Bennet sisters walked forwards, leading the bridal party.

Their eyes met, and it was proficient, curt and bleak.

Just like their marriage promised to be.

The priest at the altar, began proceedings. "We are gathered today in sight of God and his Bounty of Angels to join this Man and Woman together in the binding of life." He continued on a few verses, and at last asked for any impeder to voice his or her concern out loud, to stop this marriage from happening.

None came.

Soon, the vows were upon them and they recited "I will," in turn, and waited for the rings to be blessed so they could slip it on each other's finger. They were then part of an hour's service of prayers and songs, with not one word exchanged between the pair.

That night, they set out for Pemberly.

After a few days travel, it became clear under no circumstances was Darcy planning to share Elizabeth's bed. Although he didn't openly tell her to maltreat their vows, the implication was clear as he departed for his own chambers, giving her the cold shoulder.

It took three nights for Elizabeth to work up the courage.

On the third night, she told him over the dinner table, that she planned to visit his chamber later in the evening, and if he didn't want her to impose, then to double-lock the door. Darcy didn't respond.

He just continued eating, like she wasn't there.

O

Dressed in a virginal nightgown, hair cascading down her back, Elizabeth descended the stairs with as much haughtiness as she could muster. The servants had all but retired, leaving only the dark and the unsteady pounding of her heart to aid her in her path. Frequently, she bumped into errant furniture, like a desk or a chest. But she soon learned to put her hands out, feeling for thin air, but knowing that meant she wouldn't run headlong into a wall of some sort.

Darcy's bedroom was at the end of hall, and as a proxy invitation, was open a smidgeon.

It was getting hard to swallow.

She'd warn him to look after his personal safety in the night, to lock his doors...but yet he'd ignored her unfulfilled promise, as if in a silent dare.

Which Elizabeth was fully prepared to accept. Stumbling towards the half strip of light, with her arms still outstretched, she located the door handle with ease, and with relish pushed it a little, to slip inside.

As the door creaked, she froze- fearing her wicked plan was all but over. But one desperate glance towards the bed, and she saw Darcy's slumbering face, peaceful and unaware.

At first she was so transfixed by his smooth, unworried expression, she let her eyes dip from his long, feathered eyelashes to his protruding cupid's bow, and the harsh line of his mouth now slightly open. His doublet was open at the collar, and as Elizabeth's gaze lowered, she started breathing heavily.

He was nude, besides the doublet.

Completely bare and open to her gaze.

It was certainly a thrill to a see a sudden switch of texture and flesh. The smooth fabric hid his taut stomach, revealing only a little patch above his pubic bone, which was hollow and vulnerable. And then there was that shock of blond pubic hair. It was untamed and unruly, curls, and coarse, and clinging. Hidden, like two shy little acorns, were two large, swollen sacs, that were veined blue, slightly mauve in shade and shivering in the cold breeze from the gap in the door, which even the finest of hair could not sheild or protect.

Elizabeth never having seen a man's cock below, instantly reacted to the unknown, liquid starting to gush between her thighs. Puzzled, Elizabeth realizing she could be caught any moment, reached under her nightgown and let her thumb brush against the wetness, feeling it thick and coat her fingers.

That was when the scent of her arousal hit her, and it nearly caused Elizabeth to gag. How unusual and...heady. Her body had never reacted like this before, and she was curious to why an unbidden image of her husband, had been the reason.

Mortified, Elizabeth looked back at Darcy's face, and saw his nose twitching, like he too could smell her wanton aroma. Hastily, Elizabeth let her nightgown drop, aware that if Darcy had awoken at that moment, he would've spotted her, with her plump rear displayed to the world, as she touched herself intimately.

Almost with hunger and urgent need, she willed herself closer, now looking at the piece of flesh hanging between his thighs, and unlike his ball sacs, was not hiding. True, it's base was somewhere inbetween all that thatch of pubic hair, but it's length was rested on his thigh, looking somewhat like a deformed third leg.

Made of flesh, and blood, it looked like it was slumbering, occasionally twitching.

His pale, slightly flushed cock was flaccid, the crown slightly bulbed, but hosting a slightly leaking slit.

Elizabeth longed to trace that slit with the tip of her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Her urge was so primal, she nearly acted on it, but stopped herself in time. Instead, she lowered her head and started it straight in the eye. Like her, there was remnants of a thick liquid, coating some of his well sprung cock.

She wanted to lick, suckle and wipe her wet core against the length of it.

Anything to relieve the mind-numbing pressure.

The tips of her hair brushed Darcy's thighs and he groaned in his sleep. But he didn't toss or turn, still presenting his goods solidly and proudly. It was up to her to take what she wanted. She'd been letting her light, cool pants fall on it for so long, it was now beginning to stir.

Out of the wilderness, his balls emerged, rising straight up and saluting the air.

And without Elizabeth presenting a single touch!

Delighted, she watched this magnificent display, still crouched over like a perverse old crone watching the maypole rise, for the dancers to skip around. Like a fountain springing to life, hot, freshly squeezed semen started seeping from the hilt, and it burned his puckered foreskin as it travelled down his length.

Elizabeth made a noise of distress, noting it would be lost in his thatch, and she quickly leaned forward and catch a drop with her tongue. It melted in her tongue, full of salt and sizzle, but it tasted no more unpleasant than she might have imagined. She made an appreciative, humming noise, and decided a second nibble was a must.

She bit his swollen ball sac lightly, but it was enough for Darcy to bolt upright with a shout!

It must've been quite a revelation, to see a woman leaning over him, taking him into the mouth. For an instant, Darcy tensed, realising the dream he'd been having was real, but then he saw the dip of Elizabeth's nose buried into his crotch, and it sent the fire raging even harder.

He was deeply aroused.

"Come Elizabeth," he said gutturally. "You need not do this."

But her slick tongue swept around him once, and Darcy fell back, panting and clutching his bedsheets. "God damn, Elizabeth, if you stop now, I will protest severely. You have started a dangerous game, and you must now finish it-_argfooph."_

Her lips latched onto his slit and started sucking heavily.

All the while, her hands were playing with each respective sac, kneading them, like she was an expert pie-maker, and massaging them, even giving the occasional slap to domesticate them.

It was the slap that started it.

As she did one, and then the other, the light smacks smarted, and caused his buttocks to instinctively jerk forwards, causing her to swallow half his cock. This further unexpected gem, made him start creaming in her mouth, and he couldn't stop himself, looking at her half-dazed eyes as his hips did small repetitive lunges, so his thick cock was sliding in and out between her teeth.

Darcy swore, and removed himself, sweeping Elizabeth to the edge of the bed, and urging her with a shake, to spit what he'd given her.

Small dribbles came out, but surprisingly after a few false heaves, she lagged back into his warm chest, and opened her mouth wide.

"I swallowed most of it," she said, her eyes large, dark and vulnerable. "I didn't mind the taste of it when I had it earlier...but what I did...was it wrong?"

The question floored him. Here, he was aghast and happy, after having the best orgasm of his life by a woman he'd never meant to think of in a sexual manner, and all she could think about was, if what she'd done was _wrong or not?_

"Elizabeth.." he said. "You were...perfect. Honestly, everything you did was perfect." And he kissed the top of her head, feeling something akin to fondness and affection for her. How many months he'd avoided her...and she'd sought him out at the first opportunity and showed him what he was missing...

If they didn't consummate their marriage soon, then Darcy would rather be a dead man. He wanted all of her. And he wanted it now.


	3. Treaty of Picquigny Part I

A/N: WOW. How amazing are you guys? Thanks to: Hana, paucajtro, The Butterfly Dreamer, casey5k5, Tilbib, Dizzy Lizzy.60, PeemaDarzy, Guest, Guest, Guest, Emmi Bexley, AliciaMo and Kikibb. What a mouthful!

Also someone is attempting to flame me, but it's falling on deaf ears. Dude. If you are not into what you're reading, just click backspace. I won't take offence and you won't have to be offended by my writing. Hopefully, you don't live under a dictatorship, where every citizen is forced to read "The Concubine's Sister" by someone called "Monsoon Raindrops." If you are, I'm truly sorry.

O

**Chapter Three: Treaty of Picquigny Part I**

O

But not like this. The day after tomorrow, King Edward IV had requested him to ride out to London, to be part of a quickly mobilised army, that would invade France. Having formed an allegiance with the Duke of Burgundy; Edward wanted to show his manpower and throttle. Darcy, a staunch supporter of the House of York, could do little more than agree. Having fought in the Battle of Townton, alongside other series of battles that year, his Liege, had virtually wiped out the Lancastrians.

Edward had began those battles to avenge the death of his father, Richard, third Duke of York and with the support of the Earl of Warrick, gained control of London, where Edward's ascension was complete.

Townton had been special.

It was the one, where Edward cemented his claim on the throne by outright victory.

Darcy had been just been four and twenty then - and although Warrick betrayed the House of York, in favour of the House of Lancaster in a move that deeply saddened Edward - Darcy remained true and firm. For his loyalty over the years, he had been rewarded with the Pemberly estate, and honour and prestige to his family name.

So even if Edward should ask him to fight for the sake of it - Darcy would agree.

But how, to let Elizabeth know lightly?

"Elizabeth," he said with a rough edge to his voice, sliding a palm into the curve of her neck, and gently tilting her face to him. "I must ask you to return to your room. We cannot continue this, even if we both wanted it. I will explain the reasons to you in the morning, where we shall ride around the estate, if you wish. Would you like that, Elizabeth? To ride alongside me?"

The fevered passion in her eyes was cooling, being replaced with aspersion. She keenly felt his rebuttal, and was close to humiliation. She had taken him in her mouth. Used her tongue, to coat it with slickness and her desire to please. And he had taken her by the arms, and told her to go back to her room with a dispassionate voice.

It was like sitting across him on their first night back to Pemberly all over again.

She averted her face, not wanting him to see how his words affected her.

Darcy's eyes darted back and forth across Elizabeth's profile, cursing the shadows that the night gleefully threw, so he couldn't read her emotions and countenance. All he could sense was her withdrawing away from him, so whilst he remained tense and full of vigour, her form was retired and contemplative.

Fearing she misunderstood him, he used the hand still gently placed under her ear, and used his thumb to gently roll across her cheek.

"Elizabeth. Look at me."

She did not.

"Vexed woman," Darcy suddenly cursed. "Is it such a nuisance for you to look at your husband? Am I a plaything to be ignored? _Look at me."_

This time her shining eyes found Darcy's dark glare, and held.

"My Lord..." she began.

Darcy growled, and silenced her with a kiss. It was a kiss that ravished Elizabeth to her bones, and removed all doubts of his arousal for her. Although his cock was no longer engorged, it jerked against Elizabeth's stomach, causing her to gasp and break their embrace, to glance down.

That was the only reprieve she was allowed, before Darcy ducked his head, so he could seek out her lips again and sucked her lower one into his mouth. He felt his heart racing against hers, as her tongue darted out, and engaged his, and every stroke and tickle, he felt all throughout his body.

They were drinking each other in.

Darcy stopped first.

"Enough." He held her at arm's part. "Dear Elizabeth, only you have done this to me. I was not unaffected as you think, when I woke to find your plush lips around the softest part of me, but merely holding on, to save you from my debauched nature to posses you. Go. And we shall speak in the morning."

Elizabeth nodded and raised herself from the bed.

"Goodnight, my Lord," she said with half a smile. "May the hours we are separated be considered void, when we are together again." She blew a kiss, hair draped over one shoulder, and left as she came.

Like a thief in the night.

O

In the early hours of the morning, Jane came to him.

His wife, in the latter stages of her seventh pregnancy, had taken to sleeping in a different chamber to Edward. Allowing any one of his mistresses to come and go from his chamber, without recourse or a big cry of affairs.

Edward welcomed Jane by pulling back his covers, and they briefly reacquainted with each other, with a cursory fuck, before they moved onto his most favourite thing about her. The conversation. Not one soul could hold her own, like Jane Bennet could, in the range of topics discussed from Court happenings, to rumours flying around in Scotland, about the hardship faced by the people there. James III, did not have the people's approval, like Edward commandeered his.

"Jane," he said, fingering her split lip as they faced each other, on the bed. "What has happened to your mouth?"

"Nothing worth reporting, My Liege," Jane softly lied, taking up with touching his hair. It was more beautiful than hers. "I just ran into a wall. Studious as I was, I was carrying an armload of pillows and was watching my feet. Turns out, I should have been watching my head!"

She laughed, trying to set Edward at ease.

After a while, his creased brow smoothed out and he snuggled into the featherbed, with soft, linen sheets and a rich, red canopy, with the Royal emblem emblazoned on it. Everything around them, was luxurious and hand-crafted. Something Jane could never forget.

"Do you think I stand a chance with France?" He asked.

"With you at the helm? Anything is possible..."

"But the Duke of Burgundy seems to be an unreliable character." He mused. "I have already supplied thousands of men, yet he struggles to raise a hundred. Fortunately for him, I have committed to this plan, and have no choice but to see it through. We ride in two days, with some of my most trusted squires."

"Yes," Jane said adoringly. "My sister is married to-"

"Lord Darcy of Pemberly. I know." A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "He chose well. If she is anything like you, then he will never be searching for conversation, or a place to seed his cock. Their union, was last week, I believe?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Believe so?" Edward propped his head up higher on the pillow, his brown hair splayed, and the cleft in his chin, proud and noteworthy. "Why do you believe so? Were you not there to witness such an event?"

"I cannot distance myself from the Court..."

"Why? I would have let you take your leave."

_But the Queen might have not, _Jane added mentally in her head. Ever since Jane threw herself at the Queen's feet, begging her sister to have clemency from Royal duties, something the Queen had originally ordered to displease Jane, Elizabeth Woodville had found herself in a new position of dominance.

Although her younger sister was now free, Jane had left herself be open to take her place.

Their agreement had been discrete and mutual - and for the past six weeks, Jane had been put to hard work, like a scullery maid. Something Edward could never find out, unless she wished for dire consequences.

Occasionally she rejected advances by Thomas Gray, Edward's stepson. He had been born to the Queen, before she'd met the King, and now enjoyed the newest title bestowed to him - the First Marquess of Dorset.

He enjoyed toying with Jane, occasionally giving her a slap across her rump, whenever their paths crossed. He'd been a guest of honour for the past three weeks, and the split lip was attested to him, when he sought her out, earlier last evening in order to give her a surprising lunge. She'd pushed him away and scurried on.

"Edward..." she appeared sad. "My place is beside your side."

His eyes fluttered close, and he sunk into a submissive state, falling asleep. Jane too, slept for a tranquil three hours, before she was roused by a slight knock on the door. It was her cue to leave her peace behind.

Outside, the servant directed her to the Queen's chambers, and she shuffled forwards with a reluctance, that someone about to die, would show. She opened the door, and saw the Queen being helped into her formal attire.

Jane was arrested on sight, by her beauty.

One swollen tit, hung free from her chemise, and her swollen belly underneath looked round and bountiful. With her flaming red hair already covered with a heart-shaped headress, high forehead and fair looks, it was easy to see how Edward became enraptured so quickly.

She was being dressed in a green, Burgundian gown with a deep v-neck, that showed of her kirtle and partlet. Everything about her was regal and stately, compared to Jane's simple black dress.

"Ah, the whore is here." The Queen stated. "Have you enjoyed laying with my spouse, whilst I am laden with his child?"

"Your Grace." Jane dipped low in her curtsey. "May all the health be with your child."

The Queen looked repulsed, before swiftly announcing. "I wish you to take my son, Thomas, as your lover. He has kept an eye on you, and wishes to bed you, for a reason I cannot discern. It is in your favour, to take this seriously. Though it will be your wretched soul, that burns for taking my husband and son."

Jane bowed her head. "I cannot take both at the same time."

"Then choose," the Queen said ruthlessly. "If you want the King, then refuse my son. And if you want my son, then refuse the King. I do not think the King will care. He already has quite a selection, and keeps hold of you, more out of fondness than any real desire."

Jane gritted her teeth, but the words were honest.

"Lord Thomas...where is he now?" Jane asked.

The Queen regarded her with a high eyebrow. It was clear, another new agreement was being made. Jane would no longer make nightly visits to Edward's side, and now would visit Thomas instead. Their relationship was evolving to a more courteous stage, which would take a while for either to admit.

Then, the Queen clutched her stomach with a grimace, and Jane went to support her.

But before she could take a step, the servant that had summoned her from the King's chambers reappeared, and started ushering her out. Jane didn't admonish him, but instead listened to his wishes, deciding to seek out Thomas Gray herself.

He was situated quite far in the palace, in a resplendent room that was for gentry and noblemen. After she knocked, she heard his deep voice say, "Enter."

She entered and saw him lying on the bed.

"Jane."

"Lord Thomas," she curtsied.

"Will you come here for me?"

He appeared pleased to see her, young and exuberant, something she had been missing for a while. He latched onto her mouth readily, lifting up her skirts and asking her to straddle his knees. He took her, with his head buried in-between the valley of her breasts, and gripping her buttocks hard.

That night she acted like a whore many claimed her to be, and every minute was a revelation.

O

Back in her chambers, Elizabeth Woodville sagged to the floor, just as her waters broke. King Edward was summoned, and all the maids tripped over themselves to help birth the baby.

During her labour, Edward was the perfect husband.

He held her hand, as she wailed and cried. Then held the newborn's hand, as _she _wailed and cried. In those few hours, they shared a great happiness that was unflappable, which only both of them could understand.

However many lovers either of them took, their greatest love will always be reserved for each other.

And nothing could change that.

O

X

O

A/N: Please pardon the timeline reshuffle! This baby shouldn't have been born till _November 1475, _(but this is taking place in June 1475), so I hope you can forgive my misuse of historic license! All other people mentioned besides Darcy, Elizabeth, Jane (and she's based on a real person anyway) are real historical figures! I'm having a lot of fun researching this.

PS: How many of you are up for lemons? The more reviews there are, I guess the more saucier, I make it?


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